Anger Management
by GroupFour
Summary: A boring office party leads to Quinn proposing a bet. It doesn't exactly work out as expected.


He finds Carrie sitting at a corner table by herself, a hand to her temple. But it's obvious that she doesn't have a headache. She's just trying to shield her face and stay out of sight.

"So who are you avoiding?" Quinn asks as he sits down at her table.

She jolts back a little, a bit surprised by his presence. By the expression on her face, Carrie looks like she's tempted to tell him to just fuck off and mind his own business. But, for whatever reason, she doesn't.

"Guy by the window with the blue tie" she says, barely moving her hand to gesture.

Quinn is about to ask why she's avoiding him when Carrie adds, "and the tall guy who keeps refilling his drink at the bar."

Actively avoiding two men. This should be interesting.

"So what's the first guy's story?"

She shrugs a little, looks away. "We used to work on assignments together the first year I was accepted here. We agreed that a friends with benefits deal would be perfect. Except that the guy had the emotional maturity of a hamster. So two weeks into our arrangement he started to show up at my house with fucking flowers and a guitar. There were poems too."

Quinn suppresses a little laugh. "What about the other one, by the bar? I feel like I've seen him before."

Carrie nods. "That's the new guy in charge of the Archives."

"And you're avoiding him because...?"

Again, she looks away from him, as if embarrassed. "A couple of days ago he had to go through the footage from one of our old cases. Which means he heard the tape. With me and..." She trails off and just stares at the table.

It takes a second for him to realize which one she's referring to. "In his defense, almost everyone else heard it anyway."

Carrie glares, a look that threatens to turn him to ash. Quinn isn't sure exactly why, but he kind of likes it.

"So who are _you_ avoiding?" she asks, just to change the subject

"Why do you think I'm avoiding someone?"

"You're sitting here talking to me, aren't you?"

"Don't sell yourself so short."

She glances at him for a second before going back to the nervous tapping.

"Don't look now, but Blue Tie is heading over here."

She frowns. "Who?"

"Your old fuck buddy."

"Shit." Carrie tries her best to turn her head and shield it with her hands. But there's no point. "Shit, do something!" she whispers.

Quinn frowns. "Do _what_?"

"Carrie" Blue Tie says, stopping in front of the table, "good to see you."

"Yeah, sure, you too." She sounds so dishonest it's almost incredible that the guy doesn't look offended.

"You look really good tonight."

"Uh huh."

"I mean it."

She's getting aggravated now. It's fascinating to watch the change in her expression. Carrie goes from fake sympathetic to annoyed in a few moments.

"Listen" Blue Tie drones on, "I know we didn't exactly leave things between us all that positive, so I thought maybe we could talk more. Maybe apologize and give you a chance to apologize back. What do you think?"

Carrie glares. A drop of malice slips in her voice. "You want to know what I think? Why don't you go f-"

Quinn sticks out his arm in front of the man, as if to shake it. "Peter Quinn. Heard a lot about you."

"Oh, well" Blue Tie says, shaking his hand, a bit confused, "hope it was good things."

"Of course. You know, you look familiar. Do you travel a lot?"

"I used to, when I was in the Navy."

"No kidding? Why don't you share some stories over a few drinks?"

The man nods, looking happy that someone has taken an interest in him and his stories. And as they head towards the open bar Quinn glances back at Carrie and mouths 'you're welcome'.

Blue Tie talks his ear off for nearly twenty minutes but, luckily, he's a lightweight. The man mercifully powers down after only two drinks. Quinn leaves him rambling to the bartender, and then comes back to sits back at Carrie's table.

"How did it go?" she asks.

"He's... verbose."

She sighs, remembering. "So how much did he spill about me?"

"He did happen to mention a bit about..." he feigns thinking deeply, "what did he call you? His Carrie Care Bear?"

Her eyes darken. "I am going to fucking kill that man."

"So it's _true_?" Quinn asks, eyeing her. "Jesus, I thought he made it all up."

"What else did he say? If he got into the private stuff, then I'm going to skin him alive."

"Relax, he barely mentioned you. Once he started drinking, he rambled on about his time in the Navy."

Carrie takes a breath, relieved.

"You owe me for that one, you know" Quinn says.

"For what? You should've let me tell him to fuck off."

"You shouldn't burn bridges so easily."

"I'd gladly burn down that bridge while we was still on it. The guy is an asshole."

"I'm just worried you'll keep doing this until you'll end up without anyone on your side."

Carrie scoffs. "Look who's talking. The man who has no one in his life except-" She stops for a second, something clicking in her head. "That's why you came to talk to me. You're not avoiding someone. I'm just the only one in this room who knows you."

She deserves some praise for piecing that together, Quinn thinks. Which he would gladly provide if he wasn't suddenly feeling so self-conscious.

"So is that what you're doing here" Carrie goes on, eyes narrowed, "talking from experience? Trying to teach me some lesson?"

"I'm just trying to help."

She's a bit taken aback by his honesty. By the looks of it she expected him to throw some dig at her.

They sit in silence for a moment, and it's almost a companionable one. Which is why Quinn wants to kick himself when he can't hold back a smile and spoils the moment.

Carrie looks at him, suspicious. "What?"

"_Care Bear_? You seriously let him call you that?"

She glances away, annoyed. "I thought it was his weird version of foreplay."

Quinn lets out a laugh. He can't help it.

"Like you haven't let someone call you something fucked up just because you wanted to get laid that night."

"Sure, but never anything to do with stuffed animals."

She sighs. "I need a drink."

Carrie makes a move to get up, but suddenly stops and stays seated. Quinn notices that she's doing her best to keep her legs tucked under the tablecloth.

"Changed your mind?" he asks her, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, forget it."

"So you wouldn't be worried that your old fuck buddy will see your little outfit and try to get in your pants?" Well, skirt, more accurately.

Carrie makes a sound of derision.

He rolls his eyes. "I can be your shield, don't worry."

"I don't need anyone to fight my battles for me."

"So you can handle the guy on your own."

"Sure."

"Without telling him to fuck off or burning anymore bridges."

That stumps her for a moment.

"Can't do it, can you?"

"I could. There's just no point wasting any effort on an asshole."

"I'll tell you what" Quinn goes on, "if you can go this entire night without cursing or being mean to someone, I'll give you all the money I have in my wallet right now."

She scoffs. "What, like two dollars?"

He quietly digs for the wallet and shows its contents. Which is significantly more than two dollars.

Carrie tries to hide her surprise. "So all I have to do is not swear or be rude to anyone. Can you be the exception?"

"No."

She thinks about it and then nods. "Okay, I'll take the bet. But what's in it for you?"

"The satisfaction of knowing that I'm right. Because you can't do this."

And there's that malice in her eye again. She wants to throw quite a lot of colorful words in his face, but obviously can't.

"Okay, here's an addition to the rules" Quinn says, "you're allowed to have one slip-up. Just in case you want to tell me to fuck off right now and get it over with."

Carrie takes a deep breath, shakes her head, and stands away from the table. Maybe her determination really can overwrite her need to swear. She heads for the bar, and he keeps close, just to overlook this entire operation. And the second she orders something, Blue Tie stumbles over.

"Care Bear!"

Carrie bites her tongue. Maybe she assumes he'll go away if she ignores him.

No dice.

"Carrie" he slurs, "you really do look great. I mean, you prob'ly don't even know how great. Just great. You know?"

"Uh huh" she says, wary. "Thanks."

"And I wanted to tell you something. Ever since we broke up."

Carrie's eyes widen a fraction, because she just knows this can't end well. And suddenly Quinn feels bad that he won't be able to help her out of this situation.

"And you're great" Blue Tie goes on, "did I tell you you're great?"

Carrie moves away from the bar and takes a few steps back. "Thanks, but you really shouldn't-"

And in the blink of an eye he's slumped over her in a drunken hug. "Can we jus' go back? Back to before? 'M so, so sorry!" Tears are quickly flowing down on the back of her shirt, and it's obvious that Carrie has no fucking idea how to react. She glances at Quinn with a look of pure confusion.

"Okay, listen to me, uh..." Carrie looks at Quinn for a moment. He mouths 'Ryan'.

"-Ryan. We've had some... interesting times together and some of them less interesting. But they're in the past now. And that's where they should stay."

The man nods, but holds onto her. And since she can't go for her knee-jerk reaction and shout profanities or slap him, Carrie stands there.

She eventually disentangles herself from him once the crying stops, and she sends him on his way. Carrie slumps back into the bar seat and takes a deep breath.

"That was horrible" she says, massaging her temples.

Quinn shrugs. "It looked really entertaining from where I was standing."

"Well it's great that you're enjoying yourself because this has to be the most brutal version of anger management I've ever been through."

"But look on the bright side. No bridges burnt. No cursing." He glances at her back. "Maybe a bit too many tears on your shirt. But, all in all, I think you handled it really well," he takes a drink from his glass, "Care Bear."

Carrie's eyes snap in his direction. "You are _this_ close to driving me fucking insane."

"You might want to rephrase that."

She's ready to say something nasty when he interrupts her with, "Careful, you already used your free 'fuck you, Quinn' slip-up."

Carrie leans over on his side of the bar, grabs his glass and downs the rest of the drink. She smiles sweetly, in obvious mock. And then heads out of the room.

Quinn waits for her to return, but after fifteen minutes it's obvious that she's not coming back. The little cheat. He goes looking for her and stops before the ladies' room. He obviously can't just walk in there without causing a disruption so he waits until a woman steps out.

"Hi, could you help me for a moment?" he asks her, doing his best to seem personable, "there's a woman in there who's blond, about this high, white top, black skirt. And she owes me a lot of money, but she's been avoiding me all night by staying in there. Could you just get her to come out so we can have a talk?"

The woman looks a bit apprehensive but nods and walks back inside. And, a few moments later, Carrie stumbles out, angry. She has a nasty bruise around her left eye.

"So you're spreading rumors now?" she asks, pissed off.

He can't stop looking at her bruise. "Jesus Christ, what happened?"

"There was a bitch in the bathroom who wouldn't stop hogging the mirror."

"So you punched her?"

"No, she called me names." She pauses. "And _then_ I punched her."

Quinn doesn't know what to say.

"I can't do it, okay?" Carrie says "I can't just stop being angry or telling people to fuck off - and yes, I know I just said 'fuck' - because it's just not me, and it's never going to be me. So congratulations, you won. You just proved that I'm a horrible person."

"Carrie, if that's all that took to label someone, then every single person at this party would be a horrible human being."

She looks at him, half surprised and half puzzled. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You care. About other people, and what they think."

Carrie frowns. "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do. Two seconds ago you were yelling at me because you thought you were a horrible person. If you didn't care about people, then you wouldn't have gotten pissed off by that."

More frowning. And then a hint of realization. Followed by a puzzled look. She opens her mouth a few times, but no words come out and after a few seconds of this, Carrie just shakes her head, and goes back towards the bar. He follows her, wondering what she's going to do.

For a while she says nothing. Does nothing. Carrie sits and looks into the mirror behind the bar, examining her face. Quinn grabs his glass, drops a few ice cubes in it, and then holds it pressed to her bruised eye.

"If you had to take the bet" she says suddenly, "do you think you would win or lose?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't swear as much as you."

"But there's a chance you could lose."

"Is this about reestablishing the status quo or something?" he asks, frowning "You want me to lose so you can feel better?"

Carrie doesn't answer, she just leans over and starts going through his pockets nonchalantly.

"I know it's not nearly as fun, but you can just _ask_."

"Found it" she says, holding up his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Going through your contacts for an ex girlfriend."

"Why?"

"Fair is fair. If one of my exes is here, then one of yous has to be too."

Quinn shakes his head. "No."

"Sorry, those are the rules." She's off the seat now, taking small steps away while still going through the phone.

"Carrie, I didn't agree to any bet, give me my phone back."

"No way." And she starts running.

This is ridiculous. He's not going to stoop to her level. Besides, she has to be bluffing.

Carrie is out the door a few seconds later, phone pressed to her ear.

Well, fuck.

Quinn gives chase.


End file.
